


(the purest) expression of grief

by staticpetrichor



Series: ACOTAR prompts [8]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon Compliant, Depression, Drabble, F/M, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rhys POV, Self-Harm, Set right after UtM, and a sprinkle of acceptance, angst with a hopeful end, it isn't graphic or anything just one little line but still, like that one meme, oh fuck that's pining im an idiot, very good we like that, yes?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22313395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticpetrichor/pseuds/staticpetrichor
Series: ACOTAR prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429963
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	(the purest) expression of grief

**⁂**

Sometimes he screams late at night, when no one else is awake.

The screams are always silent, never once breaking past the barricade of his lips.

But he screams all the same.

He screams until his throat cracks and blood drips down in threadlike creases. He screams until his eyes ache from the strain of constantly being squeezed shut and half-moon crescents are carved into the flesh of his palms.

He screams and he screams and he screams.

Because what else can he do?

What else is he supposed to do? He knows they don’t expect him to be whole and happy, don’t expect the male they’d once loved to ever return, not fully. But the invisible pressure against his chest doesn’t ease with the knowledge.

No, if anything it weighs down even more, as if in mockery of their reassurances. It’s become a fixed point in his life, knowing he can’t outrun these demons, knowing the only person who could learn the intricacies of his soul is entwined in the arms of his enemy. 

And he can’t even find it in himself to be angry. If she were here with him now, if she saw what had become of him… Rhysand didn’t think he’d be able to handle seeing pity in her stunning blue-grey eyes.

Even after everything else he had survived, that could very well be a killing blow.

Then there’s the matter of the other pain that lives inside of him. Fused with his own and yet different, too distant and warped for him to offer comfort from his current place. But there’s still a piece of him that wants to, that longs to reach out and do what it can to mend the shattered places he had watched break. 

But his was not a necessary comfort. Feyre had _Tamlin_ , not to mention the rest of his court, to help her. And Rhys had his family. The family he never thought he would see again, the people who had once made him who he was and could help him piece himself back together. 

So why in the hell did it not feel like enough? Why did it feel like too much? How in the fuck is he supposed to get anywhere when he can’t even get a handle on his own feelings? Why is he thinking of helping Feyre when he can’t help himself? 

At least that problem could wait a moment. He’d had to play a role to keep her even somewhat whole and his actions weren’t the type to be easily forgiven. So it wasn’t like she’d consider him for assistance anyway. Not now, and not anytime in the near future if Tamlin had a say in the matter. 

And Rhys knew that it was a very rare thing when the High Lord of Spring didn’t get his way _and_ accepted it. 

Settling himself back in bed, he still has a few hours before the sun shows its face, Rhys comes to the conclusion that it is a very good thing they made that bargain then, isn’t it?


End file.
